


Graffiti Bonez

by Static_city



Category: Gorillaz
Genre: No Ships Just Screaming And Character Development, probably angst
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-06
Updated: 2020-02-06
Packaged: 2021-02-27 23:01:08
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,691
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22583710
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Static_city/pseuds/Static_city
Summary: Is this it, the point of no return? Where does a line like that even lie, if it exists I crossed it long ago. It seems like you get so close to something resembling recovery to have it all come back down. Murdoc Faust Niccals makes a game out jumping cliffs and crossing lines, but that has landed him here, Downtown Chicago, soaked in human feces, desperately alone. The closest thing he has to family is 2000 miles away and refusing to answer his calls. He should’ve waited to be released, freedom was so close, but he made it closer and so much harder to get back. So what is he to do but what he does best, kidnap young talented musician and force them to perform with him. But they might possibly be more damaged than he can deal with. All he knows is that he must press forward.
Kudos: 4





	Graffiti Bonez

**Author's Note:**

> This will be a series but it is not chronologically aligned. Everyone will be included eventually as well. This chapter begins around the time of The Now Now. Murdoc has relapsed into his abusive behaviors, there are a lot of themes of abuse, mental illness, but also recovery for both characters. This story has been my baby for a few years and now I guess its time to put that baby on a spike for y'all. fucking roast me idc

Static’s head rose slowly as someone shifted closer to them on the filthy black van’s floor. Suddenly dingy green arms reached up took them by the shoulders and shook hard enough to smack against the metal walls, causing a loud Thu-knk to echo through the vehicle.  
“Oi! Wake Up! Rehearsal in five minutes.”, Murdoc Niccals, former leader of Gorillaz, yelled at full volume in the younger singer’s face. He grinned viciously at the reaction of this rude awakening. Static’s pupils rolling about like a ball bearing puzzle,his breath sending a shiver down their spine initiating their normal nervous spasms. Static squinted at their kidnapper as their eyes adjusted on his busted green face and frowned, ears ringing. They couldn’t tell if it was from the assault or the hangover from the previous night. Murdoc released his grip waiting for the next part of this unfortunate routine. They had once been assured that the “tour” would be perhaps a month tops, it had now creeped into the sixth month. Six long months with Murdocs terrible navigation, the infrequent acquiring and absolute misuse of money, finally the excessive amount of detours to avoid both police, hitmen, and demons it was obvious to Static that they may never reach California, much less Gorillaz HQ.  
“Ur such an asshole.”they mumbled under their breath and turned around allowing him to access the straps and buckles of the accursed straightjacket which often confined Static. Murdoc full access to the straps of the straitjacket he kept them confined in most of the time.  
“Oh I'm much worse than that kiddo.”, He huffed and roughly undid the straps, making sure Static smacked their head against the van a few more times just for a laugh. Once finished he rose grabbing his bass parallel to the blue haired yellow eyed 20 something year old before opening the side door and sliding into the orange toned evening.  
Static shook the jacket off as they stood. They didn’t bother trying to change clothes or look for something to help with the smell, they had long given up on appearances early into the tour. They had been wearing the same graphic tee (printed with the words I live in the Garfield House), a grey long sleeved undershirt, and jeans for maybe 3 days to a week. A red bandana folded into a thick rectangle hung from their neck. Static pulled on their tattered grey beanie and retrieved an orange gasmask and their own guitar from the opposite side of the van, cradling it tightly in their arms and followed suit. Their guitar was an ESP E-II FRX, it seemed to have a natural orange glow, the body was filled with orange and blue fluid which swirled around like a lava lamp. This guitar was sick as fuck and their most prized possession.  
The evening sunlight burned Static’s unadjusted eyes, the winter air freezing their scrawny ass in seconds as Murdoc led them inside, walking close behind and kicking at their heels every so often just to watch them trip.  
The pair entered The Lonely Charlatan through the back entrance which led directly to the stage where they set their instruments. The smell of a thousand spilled beers and the heavy odor of cigarettes wafted through the air of the pub. It was a cozy little hole in the wall Static thought, with plush red and green booths and seating at the center and around the bar counter, the performance area took up half the building. This was a place that prided itself on the simple pleasures of good alcohol and good music, something that was evident in it's decoration and graffiti. They probably would’ve been a regular here if not for current circumstances. Over the back wall behind the stage was a large sheet for a projector display.  
Static stood close by the doorway shivering as Murdoc talked to the owner of the bar at the counter. Actually he was flirting, heavily, they never understood why anyone would take interest in him. He was crude,rude, and smelled like the men’s bathroom in a dive bar which had a water main break. As long as it got them on their way to Gorillaz HQ Static didn’t really care.  
They took in the atmosphere and trying to calculate the maximum crowd a place like this could have. Static looked nervously to each exit and then back at Murdoc who was laughing rather heartily at something the barkeep said. They considered bolting, then shoved their hands into their pockets and sighed, he was already returning two drinks in hand. He eyed Static who reflexively moved out of the doorway to the white tape X marked slightly to the left of center stage, slid the guitar strap to its place on their shoulder, plucking out a few notes. They never had to tune it. Murdoc set a tall clear drink in front of Static’s microphone and finished his brown one getting himself in position slightly behind and to the right. Static briefly wondered if the drink was water or vodka this time before starting to tune their instrument. Murdoc tossed a flash drive to the sound tech who caught it gracefully in one hand and shot a pair of finger guns his way. After some discussion on setup they ran through each track with the tech and by the end Murdoc looked to Static, grinning ear to pointed green ear.  
“Owhhh This will be an Incredible show tonight. Long as you don’t screw anything up.” He taunted before leaving to get another drink. Static bent over and took a tentative sip of their own. It was watered down vodka, they took another few sips anyway, then a few gulps in an effort to numb their nerves. The bartender placed another drink at their feet.  
“I’ll keep em comin and stop by the bar for something to eat before you leave. So skinny,,'' she said in an accent unfamiliar to Static They nodded politely and wondered briefly about their exact location. They were always left in the dark on those details. When Murdoc returned he motioned for the 10 minute mark. Static pushed the bandana around their neck up over their eyes and placed a full face gas mask over their head. It was about to be showtime and the doors would open for the frozen punks determined enough to wait in the snow to see Graffiti Bonez.  
He was right. The show was one of the best they’d had so far. By the time Static pulled the mask up for their first lyrics the crowd was roaring. Even blindfolded Static could tell it was a packed house, and so the vodka was a lifesaver. By the last song the audience was crazed with hypnotic excitement and Static was drunker than the worm at the bottom of a bottle of tequila. Holding the microphone for support they said their final words of the night.  
“He-he. This is great, well not really, it's honestly terrible. Seriously though guys I-I’m like a hostage please help me- at least let me know where I am?”, they slurred laughing sheepishly.They crowd roared back “COLORADO!” and was compelled to screeching.  
“Oh nice I like weed too.” If they could’ve seen Murdocs face at that moment their regrets would be instant but he recovered, playing it off as some running joke between them and that was that, the next song began with Static strumming wildly and mouthfucking the mic.  
Throughout the night Murdoc played nice with the crowd after the show long as he was able, if only to score drinks and steal wallets. He kept Static closely at his side, squeezing their arm tight enough to bruise, until the pair was out of sight at the back of the building. Static stumbled along as he pulled them towards the van, pleasantly sauced and unaware. They gingerly set their guitar into the open threshold of the vehicle.  
Before they could enter themself there was a hand on their throat. Sharp nails digging into the already scarred flesh. Murdoc set his bass in the van with one hand before throttling Static within an inch of their life.  
“YoU DisRespecTful, UngrAteFull lIttle IngRAte! Why Do You Insist On Fighting This! YOUr Worse Than 2D, You ACTUALLy hAve a BRain AnD You’Re Still A StuPid GoDdAmn CUnt. Am I Not Enough For You, YoU thinK someONe Else Would PuT up With This!?” His anger and their mutual drunkenness made it hard to understand him at some point. They didn’t have to know what he was saying, but they got the gist. He dissolved this way frequently enough, at the very least he knew Static wasn’t 2d this time.  
Murdoc particularly didn’t like the truth of things, and as the tour dragged on, they confessed more and more to the blind uncaring hoards of music lovers and Murdoc fuckers. Every time Static was met with a similar assault post-show which only drove them to further attempts at freedom. Static wondered if the cycle would end, if Murdoc would quit drinking long enough to properly navigate, or if he even truly wished to reach the Gorillaz HQ. The couple of tears that threatened to drip told a complicated story. They were briefly distracted by they only other car in an otherwise empty lot, a bright red Honda, at least till he uncapped a small dart and inserted it into the exposed skin of their neck. The world went soft and quiet and Static drifted off to a dream vaguely about goldfish.

They awoke to early morning light seeping into the darkened van windows, once again bound in the straitjacket and sorely hungover. Murdoc was searching through radio stations as he drove to wherever the next venue was. They didn’t know where they were or how long it had been for sure or even what happened halfway through last nights show. Static didn’t move, things always seemed to get worse once he knew they were awake. They stared at the black upholstered ceiling thinking back to how they got into this mess in the first place.


End file.
